


I'll Cross the Sea Another Time

by thekumquat



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Major Character Undeath, a lot of hating on Kai Leng because I hate him, the working title of this was Local Soldier Loves Frog Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-06-11 19:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekumquat/pseuds/thekumquat
Summary: After falling in love, Thane wants to live again. Now he does.My friend commissioned me to write a fic correcting Thane's death in ME3.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snuffes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuffes/gifts).



When she walked into Huerta Memorial, Joan was thinking of nothing but finding Kaidan. The weight of everything was curled dark in the back of her mind but she couldn’t focus on it, not yet. Tonight, in the solitude of her cabin, she'd let it all come crashing down, let it rip the breath from her lungs, let her hands shake and her mind reel. Right now, she was going to focus on Kaidan.

A flash of green and black caught in the corner of her eye, and though she had been seeing flashes of green and black since the moment she set foot on the Normandy, she looked anyway.

This time, it wasn’t her imagination.

She had pushed the galaxy from her mind before, but now it was the whole world that fell away. The stark metal walls of the hospital, the stinging smell of antiseptic, the sharp commands between doctors and nurses, distant alarms, soft weeping and comforting whispers, all of it faded to silence and stillness. There was only herself, and the man she loved.

He stood by the window, throwing punches, light on his feet, eyes fixed on his reflection in the window. It took more effort than it should have to say his name, and Joan wasn't sure if it was fear or relief or surprise that was making her throat so tight. 

“Thane?” It came out almost as a whisper, and she wasn't sure if he would hear her. He turned away from the window sharply, instantly alert and on guard. When he saw Jane, the suspicion melted into a slow smile that lit up his dark eyes.

“Siha.”

It seemed to take both seconds and years for her to cross those few steps to him. He reached for her and without hesitation she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tightly. Instead of hugging her back, he let out a soft grunt of pain and pulled away.

“What is it?” Joan asked, alarmed, suddenly terrified without reason that she had misread, misunderstood, that he had changed his mind. “What’s wrong?”

Whatever pain she'd caused had not dimmed Thane’s smile. Instead it grew, quick and clever and deeply pleased with itself. Without a word, he took her hand in his and placed it on his chest. She could feel his heart beating against her palm, and it was so distracting that it took her a moment to notice the ridge under her palm. When she look, a long thick scar, darker green than his skin, curved across his chest.

“I see none of the messages I sent you made it past your guards,” he said, still smiling. Joan was silent for a moment, her mind churning as she tried to put the pieces together. The air rushed from her lungs and she had to take a breath to speak again.  

“You got the transplant.”

“It seemed foolish not to try,” he said, “when I had so much to live for.”

Her heart caught in her throat. Joan had read Chakwas’ report when Thane had first joined her fight against the Collectors. The words had stung, burrowed under her skin to prick at her whenever she let her mind drift to the future they couldn't have. 

_Viable transplant candidate but refused to be added to list_

It had made sense, at the time. Why would he take the risk, when he thought so much was waiting for him after death? Wasn't it selfish to want more of him to herself? Thane still loved his wife, believed he would see her again when he died, comforted himself with the thought. She had told herself, again and again, that she would love him for all the time the world would let her have him, be grateful for the each second she got, and not resent the ones she didn't. 

Now the world was shifting beneath her. Instead of months, years stretched ahead of them. If she didn't think about the Reapers, if she let herself assume that she could somehow win this war, there would be  _time_. It was still finite, but now it was unknown. Each breath was no longer a grain of sand sliding down an hourglass. She didn't have to count the seconds. 

He pulled her into his arms, gently this time. Joan rested her chin on his shoulder and shut her eyes, listening. His breathing was steady and even, without a hint of the tight rasp that used to hover at the edges.

Thane had put off death for her.  

The thought echoed in her head, soft as a lullaby, in tandem with the rhythm of their breathing. There would be time. There would be time. There would be time. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was like a nightmare. Every time she thought it couldn’t get any worse, some fresh hell would unfold, and the whole galaxy would be turning to her, waiting for her to fix it. The Citadel was burning, C Sec was in shambles, and just when she’d found the councilor some  _jackass_ had hopped down from the ceiling to menace the salarian.

 _Just once_ , Joan thought bitterly, _I would like something to go right and_ stay _right._

Complain later, she told herself. Right now, she had a mission and that mission was being stalked by a human in black leather. Joan gathered a biotic charge around her fist and slammed her hand against the window, blowing it outwards and showering a rain of glass on the ground below. No time to bother with stairs; she vaulted the window sill. Thanks to her cybernetics, the impact on landing only made her wince, rather than shattering both ankles. 

Glancing back at her, the assassin did an absolutely ridiculous jump straight over the councilor and to the other side. Definitely had some sort of augmentation, which was just fantastic. For a moment, Joan had thought this would be easy. 

He held up a hand and yellow light gathered at his palm.

“Don’t even think about it,” she ordered.

“Shepard, he’s going to kill us all!” the councilor hissed, voice straining in his terror.

“That remains to be seen,” Joan replied, eyes fixed on the newcomer. Now on even ground, she could take him in in his entirety and holy _shit_ , what was she looking at? He was like a cartoon character, with his tiny ponytail and shiny, too-complicated armor.

The councilor was babbling about Udina -- a coup, a trap, collusion with Cerberus -- but Joan was only listening with half an ear. Her focus was on the assassin, who was wearing what appeared to be oversized swim goggles. The black metal and blue strips of light made him look like a toad. The human was mirroring her attempts to get a clear shot, keeping the councilor trapped between them.

From the corner of her eye she saw Garrus and Tali emerge from the stairwell.

“Three on one, pal,” she said. “It’s over.”

“No. Now it’s fun.”

Joan fought the urge to roll her eyes and groan. What kind of cliche, macho, action movie _bullshit_ …

Thane appeared behind him.

Joan had fought beside Thane for over a year while they hunted the Collectors, but his skill never ceased to catch her by surprise. One moment, the space behind the human had been empty air. Then, there was Thane, pistol drawn and pointed at the man’s head.  

The man threw a punch. Thane blocked it easily but dropped his pistol in the process. Their hands flew, so evenly matched it was almost more like dancing than fighting. Joan kept her pistol up, but didn’t dare fire.

The human caught Thane in the face, sending him stumbling; grabbed his arm and threw him to the ground. Joan took the chance and fired, but the assassin was too fast. Thane recovered, pushed himself upright, snatched up his pistol. 

The assassin was gone.

Cloaking devices. Joan _hated_ cloaking devices. Okay, yes, they were extremely useful when they were on your side, as Kasumi had proven time and again, but nobody  _else_ should be allowed to use them. Her eyes desperately scanned the area, looking for the tell-tale shimmer in the air but finding nothing.

A crackle of electricity and the assassin appeared, holding an honest to god katana, as if this was feudal Japan and not the 22nd goddamn century. Somehow, despite the fact that all four of them had opened fire, the assassin could not be hit. He moved faster than should have been possible, ducking and weaving and always managing to be right where the bullets weren’t.

Thane ducked the first swing of the sword and blasted the man across the room with his biotics. What little of the man’s face Joan could see was twisted in rage as he got to his feet. A breathless pause, and both assassins charged.  

Barely a few feet before they met, the human raised his sword, aimed squarely at Thane’s midsection. He wouldn’t even have to strike. Thane’s momentum would do the work for him.  

The world slowed. Joan’s breath froze in her lungs. Every blink was an eternity, and she didn't dare blink in case she missed it. Everything was in sharp relief, the world so crystal clear Joan could have counted the threads in Thane's jacket. She was sure, so sure that this was the death of the man she loved. Time was sliding away from them again. 

As casually as if he was making room for someone to pass in a crowded hallway, Thane turned and slid past the sword. Giddy, hysterical laughter bubbled in Joan’s chest at the bewildered look that spread across the human’s face.

The world sped up, and Thane slammed his knee into the human’s gut, seized his wrist and twisted until the sword clattered to the ground. Thane struck with another blast of biotic energy, though this one was weaker than before -- the fight was beginning to take its toll. The human only stumbled back, giving Thane the space to catch up the sword.

Like lightning, the human closed the space between him and slammed his fist into Thane’s chest, right at the still-fresh scar. Thane went pale under the green and stumbled back, collapsing to the floor.

The human lunged for his sword, but even like this, Thane was better. He rammed it through the human’s thigh. The blade burst out the other side in a shower of sparks, metal pushed open like flower petals.

Suddenly freed from the shock and fear that had frozen her in place, Joan fired and cursed as yet again her shot winged past the man by inches. He wrenched himself and his sword from Thane’s grip, dragged his blade from his leg with a grimace of pain. There was the merest moment of hesitation, then the assassin fled.

Thane tried to pull himself upright, but collapsed back against a table with a soft noise of pain. Joan spared a glance in the assassin’s direction, and made her choice. She’d be quick. The man would pay, and pay dearly, but Joan could not leave not knowing.

She knelt beside the drell and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay? Are you--” _Going to die,_ she did not, could not say.

“I am fine, siha. I’ve healed enough that one punch won’t do any damage.” He put a hand to his chest and winced all the same. “It did hurt, though.”

Joan grabbed his hand and squeezed it, relief flooding so strongly she herself felt breathless. She couldn’t help but match Thane’s smile when the drell chuckled.

“He should be ashamed of himself, losing to a man recovering from major surgery.”

“You know Cerberus; all dregs and washouts.”

Thane gestured after the assassin.

“Go. I will guard the councilor.” When Joan hesitated, he squeezed her hand again. “I will not die here, Shepard.”

  
  


_He’s fine_ , Joan told herself. _He’s fine, he’s fine, he said he’d be fine_.

Her hands were not shaking, her heart was not pounding, but it was taking all of her strength to make it that way. She couldn't stop her ears from ringing or her mind from replaying the scene of Thane sprawled on the floor, pale and weak, gasping for air.

Joan’s voice was steady when she stopped a nearby doctor and told him she was looking for a drell, a regular patient here.

 _“_ Room 235, just around that--”

Joan was already gone. She didn’t run through the hallways, but she put on her Commander face and the brisk walk that made people hurry to get out of her way. Normally she felt a little guilty -- she didn't like intimidating civilians just for standing around -- but this was an emergency. 

Sort of.

Possibly. 

When she reached room 235, however, she hesitated, wary of what she might find. She should have asked the doctor how Thane was doing, if only so she could be sure she wasn’t walking blindly into her worst nightmare. Schrodinger's drell, she thought suddenly, slightly hysterically. So long as she stayed out here, Thane could not be dead. 

But he couldn't be alive, either. Joan took a deep breath, then let it out.  

Joan opened the door and nearly ran into a drell standing in the middle of the room. He turned, and she stiffened, instantly recognizing Thane’s son. The last time they had met had been...tense. Though it had turned out well enough in the end, she wasn’t certain how Kolyat would react to her.

Fortunately, he didn’t react with immediate disgust or hatred, only mild surprise.

“Commander. My father mentioned you were no longer incarcerated. I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Kolyat Krios.”

Joan had to fight down the quirk of a smile at the corner of her lips. How, exactly, did this young man expect that she would have forgotten the kid she chased halfway across the wards and held at gunpoint? Did he think that was a common enough occurrence for Commander Shepard that the experiences would bleed together? Joan’s life was exciting, but it wasn’t _that_ exciting.

“I remember you,” she said, hoping she managed to hide her amusement. Either Kolyat didn’t notice or was ignoring it, because he simply continued.

“I came as soon as I heard what happened.”

“Is he okay?” she asked, voice dropping to a whisper. Kolyat smiled.

“He’ll be fine. He’s confined to the bed for the foreseeable future, but there was no lasting damage.”

The tangled knots in her chest unwound like clock springs, leaving her weak with exhausted relief. She was tenser than she’d realized, judging by the way her legs had gone to jelly.

Outwardly, she managed to maintain calm. Kolyat stepped aside, and Joan approached Thane’s bed. He was asleep, chest rising and falling without strain. When Joan touched his hand, however, his eyes opened instantly. When he saw her, he smiled sheepishly.

“Siha. I’m afraid I won’t be much more use to you in your fight.”

Joan squeezed his hand tightly.

“You’re alive. That’s all I need.”

Thane’s smile turned wry.

“I was very sure my doctor was going to kill me when they brought me in. Apparently fighting off assassins counts as that ‘strenuous activity’ I wasn’t supposed to be doing.”

Joan couldn’t help but laugh at that, though it was a little breathless. Then the laugh caught in her throat and went tight. She swallowed hard as her eyes grew hot with tears she refused to shed. Thane put his hand on top of hers.

“I am alright. I will survive this, and I will be waiting for you when you return.”

“I was so sure I’d lost you,” she whispered.

Thane struggled to sit up, grunting in pain.

“Thane, don’t--” she began, but he shook his head, determined. When he was upright, Thane took her hand and pulled her closer to the bed, close enough that he could reach out and cup her cheek. He drew her down until his lips pressed against hers. Joan had a brief moment of pity for Kolyat, who probably found this extremely awkward, before it was overruled by the tingling on her lips where they met Thane's.

Joan was a little breathless by the time Thane pulled away, but his expression was deadly serious.

“There is too much here on land, siha, for me to pass willingly into the sea.”


End file.
